“She’s been on the road all day,” he said, “and I won’t take her out till to-morrow; so if you don’t mind, I’ll leave her with you until I come back. She’ll be all right and happy, won’t you, Sheba?”
Secretly Sheba felt some slight doubt of this; but in her desire to do him credit, she summed up all her courage and heroically answered that she would, and so was borne off to the dining-room, where two girls were cutting bread and slicing ham for supper. They were Mrs. Sparkes’s daughters, and when they saw the child, dropped their knives and made a good-natured rush at her, for which she was not at all prepared.
“Now, mother,” they cried, “whar’s she from, ’n who does she b’long to?”
Mrs. Sparkes cast a glance at her charge, which Sheba caught and was puzzled by. It was a mysterious glance, with something of cautious pity in it.
“Set her up in a cheer, Luce,” she said, “’n give her a piece of cake. Don’t ye want some, honey?”
Sheba regarded her with uplifted eyes as she replied. The glance had suggested to her mind that Mrs. Sparkes was sorry for her, and she was anxious to know why.
“No,” she answered, “no, thank you, I don’t want any.”
She sat quite still when they put her into a chair, but she did not remove her eyes from Mrs. Sparkes.
“Who does she b’long to, anyhow?” asked Luce.
Mrs. Sparkes lowered her voice as she answered: